


Tumble

by J_Q



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: All the Love!, Alternate Universe, Boys In Love, Everyone falls in love with Kitty, Falling In Love, M/M, Writer also falling in love with boys in love, kitty fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 10:56:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13480047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Q/pseuds/J_Q
Summary: Mickey & Ian + Kitty + Laundromat = Too much cuteness for one lifetimePart of the Here Kitty Kitty Collection Prompt: Your creative piece must include Ian and Mickey coming together in some way and cat(s)!





	Tumble

WEEK 1

Ian stared at the dryer settings. He had already tried the _delicate, permanent press_ and _air dry_ options. Maybe tonight, he’d try the _tumble_ option. The quarter clasped between his finger and thumb hesitated as he thought about what a _tumble_ setting meant. He imagined his clothes clumsily tripping headlong down the stairs. That made him smile.

He glanced at the ancient guy sitting behind the counter frowning with his caterpillar eyebrows at a small tv screen, oblivious to the activity in the all-night laundromat. Of course, Ian was currently the only person doing his laundry at 1:00 in the morning, but he felt customer service should be observed regardless of the hour. Working the graveyard at an all-night diner, he’d know about serving up a smile and light conversation even when you’d rather be in bed.

Even if that bed was too big for one person.

The quarter dropped into the slot, making that familiar metallic clunking noise and the dryer started just as the bell above the front door jingled. Ian looked up in interest, happy that he might have someone to chat with while his clothes tumbled away. Before his gaze travelled to the door, he bent over to watch his clothes through the little round window. Hmm, to the eye all the settings looked exactly the same. Apparently, his clothes were always tumbling. He felt kind of cheated.

Maybe the newcomer would have more intel on how dryer settings worked. Smiling, he looked around the brightly lit laundry until he zeroed in on the guy who was emptying a black garbage bag onto the long, tiled counter top. A few things caught Ian’s eye.

First, he was cute. Ian had always had a thing for dark hair, blue eyes and a bad attitude. He tried not to think of all the times that combo hadn’t work out for him. How was it possible that someone could misjudge so many guys and only be 20 years old? Maybe this guy was different though. Oh, Ian thought, that’s how you misjudged guys. Hopeless optimism. His fatal personality trait.

Second, the new guy obviously wasn’t going to have any information to share about the dryer settings because he was stuffing his jeans into the same washer as a white hoodie!

Third, he seemed about as interested in late night conversation as the old guy running the place, if the intense frown on his face was any indication. Even from across the laundromat, Ian could see deep frown lines and what looked like a nasty scar on his right cheekbone.

“Take a fucking picture, Red.”

Ian nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a voice in the sterile, cold surroundings. He had been doing his laundry this late at night for a few months now and was almost always the only customer in the place, so it was strange to hear a human voice around here. And this human voice, while coming from full, pouty lips, was not a pleasant sound. It was actually a little bit scary sounding.

But Ian was used to dealing with unhappy, angry people. It seemed to him those were the only people who ate in diners. Well, that and drunk people. But this guy wasn’t drunk, just unhappy and angry.

“Um, all the blogs say that jeans and whites should be separate loads,” Ian explained helpfully, then quickly added, “I just thought I’d let you know before you put your quarters into the machine.” He tried to soften his lecture with a big toothed smile.

Despite the warning, it seemed the guy was willing to risk it because he dropped his first quarter into the slot while lifting impressive eyebrows at Ian. “I’m gonna live on the edge.”

“Well,” Ian mumbled. “It’s your hoodie’s funeral.”

“What’s that mumbles?”

Just then a flash of grey skittered across Ian’s field of vision and out the backdoor, which was propped open with a cinderblock. “Did you see that?” he asked the cute brunet.

“Did I see what? A fucking rat run past? Then yeah.”

“That wasn’t a rat. I think it was a kitten.”

“Whatever. Same thing.”

“What? No, it’s not!” But Ian was nearly out the door by the time those words drifted back to the new guy. “Here kitty kitty.” He was frantically searching the narrow unpaved parking lot at the back of the laundromat. Garbage and old boxes and a couple of broken down dryers were scattered around the lot. The exterior light hung dangerously above the door but still managed to give off enough light for Ian to see the general area. “Here kitty kitty.” He added a few kissy sounds as further enticement.

A couple of empty boxes with the Tide logo shifted slightly and Ian heard meowing. He got to his knees and crawled toward the boxes. “Hey kitty,” he coaxed. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Lifting the box slowly, he was met with the sweetest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He was sure he fell in love in that moment. The little face was framed in bright orange fur, solidifying Ian’s feelings. “Come on out. You’re safe with me. I’ll take good care of you.”

With that promise of eternal devotion, Ian reached his hand forward and was met with talons. They dug into his skin fiercely, and if the kitten’s intentions weren’t clear enough, he added a roar. Well, a kitty roar. Ian yanked his hand back in pain and heard a chuckle behind him.

“That’s what you get, Red. Once a street rat, always a street rat.”

Ian stood up, brushing the knees of his jeans and checking the scratch on the back of his hand. A little fizzle of exasperation tried to form in his mind at the guy’s words, but he kept it in check. “Even a street rat needs to be loved,” he explained. “And fed. I’m going to go get him a can of tuna.”

“From where? Ain’t nothing open at this hour.”

“That’s my apartment.” He pointed across the parking lot to a slightly shabby, squat two story building. “I’ve got some tuna. Will you keep an eye on him?”

“So you want me to stand around watching a couple of empty boxes?” the guy huffed, then brought his smoke to his lips giving Ian the once over.

“Please.”

“Well, I’m standing here right now, so you better fucking hurry. I ain’t making any promises.”

Ian’s face had never kept a secret, and it couldn’t keep one now. It almost made the new guy smile. “I’ll hurry!” And he did, racing across the lot and through the back door of his apartment building. He didn’t even bother relocking his apartment door on the way out. In less than 5 minutes, he was back huffing and puffing. “Well, did he move?” Ian asked anxiously.

“Nah,” he shrugged. “Whatcha gonna do with that can a tuna?”

“Feed it to the kitty.”

“Ya? So you figure the street rat has a blade on him to open the can with?”

“Oh shit!” Ian’s eyes flew back to the new guy’s and the question was obvious. He was gonna rush back to his apartment for a can opener.

“Fuck it. He’s not the only street rat around here.” With that, the brunet pulled out a sleek black Smith & Wesson pocket knife. “Gimme the goddamn can.”

Ian closed the distance between them. When their fingers touched over the edges of the tuna can, Ian’s eyes locked with the second pair of beautiful blue eyes of the night. And, damn it, he might have fallen a little in love. Again. Ian’s face never could keep a secret.

“Thank you,” Ian whispered a little breathlessly.

“Whatever. I’m just opening a fucking can a tuna. Not solving world fucking peace.” He placed the can on an upturned bucket and jabbed the tip of the blade into the edge of the lid. Ian watched closely, and for the first time noticed all his tattoos. He had letters on each of his fingers. _FUCK U-UP_. Then on the inside of his left wrist, four teardrops. His eyes shifted back to the nasty scar on his cheekbone.

“You gonna take that picture?” The guy drawled.

“Can I?” This was met with an pair of impossibly high eyebrows. “I mean—”

The guy waited, but Ian had nothing. He’d meant exactly what he’d said; he just hadn’t meant to actually say it out loud. “Can I…get the tuna please?” He could feel his skin turning as red as his hair.

The guy passed Ian the can. “The, um, edges are pretty sharp. You ain’t, ya know, gonna give it to him like that, right?”

“Oh, you’re right. I’ll see if Waldorf has anything behind the counter,” he nodded excessively and headed into the laundromat, returning again in record time with a small empty milk carton that he handed over. “Could you cut the top off?”

“Looks like I’m a full service shop tonight, Red.” But he sliced off the top creating a container for the tuna, then handed it to Ian. Filling the milk carton, Ian made his way to the kitten’s hideout, but hesitated when he got there. Chewing his bottom lip, he considered how to go about getting the tuna to his new dependent. He crouched down and tried to see inside the hole on the side of the box. Then he sat back on his heels with a frown. Thinking. Hard.

“For chrissake, gimme the tuna,” the guy flicked his hand at Ian. “You gotta speak street rat. They don’t understand tender lovin’ care. They understand survival, man.”

“Everyone understands tender loving care. You just have to be consistent with it. Win them over.”

The guy grunted, and Ian moved out of the way as he flipped the box back and glared at the kitten, who glared back. He set the milk carton down directly in front of the kitten, but before the grey fluff ball could bare his teeth, the brunet hissed at him. The kitten lifted his paw, little talons raised, but instead of bringing them down on the guy’s fingers, he brought them down on the milk carton. The guy flipped the box back over the kitten and stood up.

“I’m Ian,” he all but sighed in awe. Eyes bright and shining.

“I think that was your buzzer, Ian.” With that the beautiful blue eyes dismissed him. They turned to the phone he pulled out of his pocket.

 

WEEK 2

Ian spent the week leaving cat food and fresh water under the box. Every evening before heading to the diner for his night shift of serving angry people, he’d stop at the box with his treats, but the box would be empty. He’d have a small panic attack each time, worried that something had happened to the kitten. But he’d leave the items and head to work. And early every morning, he’d stop again at the box and find the food dish empty but also the box.

At least he’s eating, Ian thought. But he needs someone to love him and take care of him. He needs a home, he needs his person. The world is too big and scary for one little kitten to be alone. No one should be alone. Ian bit his lip to stop the hurt in his heart. Shaking it off, he focussed on his plan.

Tonight was laundry night, so when he returned to the laundromat, he had his dirty clothes and fresh kitty food. He was gonna get his laundry all set up, then set up some reconnaissance in the back lot hoping to see the object of his affection. Just the furry object, Ian reminded himself. Not the brunet object.

When he entered the bright space, his eyes widened at the sight of that very brunet. He was here! Wistfully, he stared at the beautiful dark head bent over his clothes, and the pounding in his heart entered his bloodstream and reached every one of his nerve endings. The dark head lifted, and their eyes met. “Hi.” Even to his own ears, the word sounded more like a moan than anything intelligible.

Ian was rooted to the spot, incapable of anything more than staring. “You okay, Red?” Ian was so alert to the very presence of the man that he could detect the slightly breathless quality in his voice. He nodded and smiled.

“Awesome!”

Chuckling, the guy replied, “I’m not surprised. You ever not awesome?”

“When my mom died.”

“Jesus. Okay.” Those blue eyes widened. “Sorry.”

“What about you?” Ian asked feeling a little flirty. “You ever not grumpy?”

Ian could see a supressed smile. “Better get your laundry in, Ian. Don’t forget to separate your whites.”

Happily, Ian bounced around the laundromat stuffing his favorite washing machines with his clothes and linen. He was definitely gonna be using the _tumble_ option tonight as he could understand the feeling. Falling headlong.

When he turned back to his new friend, he almost cried. His clothes were all folded and being transferred from the countertop to the black garbage bag. “You’re done?”

“Yeah, you’ll be relieved to know that I didn’t put any whites in with my jeans. Kept my delicates separate too,” he teased with a flick of his eyebrows.

Ian wanted to live for that teasing and pant like a puppy for more, but he was leaving! He couldn’t think of a single tactic to keep him here either. The only option that he could come up with was to beg him to stay. But that would probably send him out the door sooner. “Oh.”

Just then a screeching sound filled the room, and Ian’s kitty came tearing through the room. Another, bigger cat hot on his heels. Kitty pounced on the brunet’s thigh, digging his claws into the fabric for all he was worth. The guy reached down and pulled the kitten off his leg and into his arms. Then he bent over slightly and hissed at the bigger cat. Kitty leaned out of the safety of the arms a little and let loose his kitty growl. The bigger cat eyed them and turned away in obvious disgust. Probably planning his next move.

Ian watched his guy and his kitty stare each other down. The kitty pushed the pad of his paw into the brunet’s chin then twisted his body to jump from his arms. The guy bent a little to let him go.

“Wait! Why’d you let him go?” Ian scrambled after the kitty. “I’ve been trying to get him to come home with me, and you let him go.”

“Ian,” the guy said. Ian turned around as he reached the door. “You gotta let him come to you. Can’t force this shit.” With that, he gathered up his black garbage bag and started toward the door.

“Will—” he stopped, feeling bereft. His kitty out the backdoor and his guy out the front. Alone again.

“See ya.” The front door swung closed.

“Well, looks like it’s just you and me, Waldorf.” But the old timer behind the counter didn’t bother to respond.

 

WEEK 3

The next week, Ian made sure to get to the laundromat earlier than usual. He’d wait all night if he had to. For both of his guys to show up. He hadn’t had an accidental spotting of either all week, and it had been the longest week of his life. Even the long weeks spent in child services periodically throughout his childhood didn’t compare to this. Back then, he hadn’t really been waiting for anything. Parents, no parents, child services, that was just the pattern in the lives of him and his siblings. Now they were all scattered to the four winds. When his sister had lost custody of them, they hadn’t been able to keep themselves together. They saw each other sometimes, but mostly they were each just surviving in their own way.

Now Ian was waiting, looking forward to, hoping. Boy, was he hoping. For some kind of fairy tale, complete with a knight in shining armor and a kitten. The box was empty except for the tin can he’d left there the previous night; the laundromat was empty except for the old guy and his tv. “Hi Waldorf,” Ian said, but got no response. Exactly what he’d expected. Some fairy tale.

As he sorted and stuffed and selected cycles—randomly and without much interest—he felt his optimism drooping. He had had to fight depression since he hit puberty. Sometimes it was like a blanket that wanted to suffocate him, to force him down. But he’d been determined from the first time to keep a hold of the eternal optimism that was at the center of what made him Ian. Circumstances were not going to get the best of him. Tonight though, he could see the potential for a different outcome. He had become attached to these two prickly, scared creatures. His future seemed to be dependent upon them.

“Never met anyone so fucking enthralled with laundry. It ain’t healthy, Red.”

The voice jolted Ian out of the staring contest he was having with the dryer. Without turning around, Ian replied, “Tumbling headlong.”

“Eh? Whatever. So you wanna show me how to sort this shit? I hear all the blogs say you don’t want your colors bleeding.”

Did Ian want to help him sort his laundry?!?

Casually, well, kind of casually, Ian moved around the row of washers to the counter where the guy was dumping his black bag. “So I probably wanna put this red t-shirt in with my white socks, right?”

“NO!” Ian began then laughed. “You’re teasing me.”

“I like your laugh, Ian.”

Nearly choking on his tongue, Ian blindly picked up the first item his fingers touched. The guy’s underwear. Of course. His cheeks turned pink. Again. The guy laughed. “You never seen a guy’s ginch, Red?” Then more quietly. “I think you have.”

“It’s because they’re yours.”

Their eyes met for a split second, and Ian looked away. “Um, it looks like you could have three loads here. Lights, colors and jeans. You could put your jeans in with your towels cause you don’t have many of each. They’re both heavy so you’ll get even drying. Plus it looks like they could use the _heavy duty_ cycle.” Ian rambled while quickly and efficiently creating those three piles.

“Well, color me impressed. You weren’t kidding when you said you’ve been reading _all_ the blogs.”

Ian smiled down at the clothing. “Yeah, I know a thing or two.”

“Shall we get the show on the road? Ain’t got all night.”

“You don’t?” Ian looked up, feeling that blanket threatening to envelope him.

“Figure of speech, Red. I’m in no hurry,” he tilted his head a little to meet Ian’s eyes. “You wanna spend a bit more time sorting? Maybe create some sub groups? Here’s a question I bet they haven’t discussed on your blogs. What if you got socks like this?” He held up one of his socks. “Mostly white but with this thick black stripe along the top? Shit, what are we gonna do?”

“Oh, no! That’s actually a hot topic,” Ian began. “People are divided on that one. First,” he lifted his index finger. “You don’t want dark stuff bleeding into your whites. Obviously, right? So if you put the socks in the darker loads, the black won’t impact—. Wait, you’re teasing me again.”

“Come on. I need a smoke. Like yesterday.”

After a quick tutorial in the washer cycles, they made their way out the back door. Sitting beside each other on the metal bench pushed up against the laundromat wall, Ian turned slightly. “Are you gonna tell me your name?”

The guy tapped out two smokes. He lit the first one and handed it to Ian. Then he lit the second and took an inhale that made Ian gawk. Wow! He could watch that all day long. Or he could replace himself with that cigarette. Oh to be devoured and worshipped like that.

“Easy boy.”

Ian twisted to face front again. God, he was making a fool of himself.

“Mickey.”

“Mouse?”

“Um, no. My name, dumbass.”

“Oh. Mickey.” Ian tasted the name on his tongue and liked it. A lot. “Mickey.”

“You gonna wear it out?”

“God, I hope so.” Not again! Jesus, Ian.

“Oh? Under what circumstances will you be overusing my name. Ian.”

Ian actually had to put his hand on his heart because he felt sure Mickey would be able to see it beating. No, pounding. He stuffed the cigarette between his lips to stop himself from speaking. God only knows what was going to come out of his mouth next. He knew what he wanted to say, but he couldn’t even think it without passing out.

“Look who’s decided to grace us with his presence.”

“Kitty!”

“Let him come to you, Ian,” Mickey said, putting his hand on Ian’s thigh. They both looked at that, and Mickey left it there a little longer then took mercy on Ian by removing it. “You got your food? Hold it out to him, but don’t stare him down like you wanna eat him for supper.”

“I don’t—” Ian began. “Oh, I see.”

“He totally likes you. He ain’t going anywhere.”

“He does?”

“Yes, Ian, he does.”

God, Ian prayed, let them be talking about the same thing. The can of cat food was sitting on the bench between the two men, and Kitty was checking it out from several feet away. Mickey caught Ian’s eye and kept his gaze. “Ignore him.”

It didn’t take long, and Kitty leapt onto the bench and settled in between them, happily eating and resting. Ian bet he’d had a long day, surviving alone out there. He knew the feeling.

After a moment, Mickey draped his arm along the back of the bench, lightly touching Ian’s shoulder blade.

 

WEEK 4

Ian was in the back lot tidying up the area around the Tide boxes and adding a soft blanket and some kitty toys he’d picked up at the Dollarama, when Mickey showed up. He could hear the front door jingle from his position in the back lot, so he quickly replaced the boxes and hustled into the laundromat.

His smile consumed his face and was completely for Mickey. “Hi.” He couldn’t resist. “Mickey.”

“Hey, Red. How’s our boy? You checking on him?”

Our boy! Play it cool, Ian, come on. “Yeah, he’s cool.” What? “I haven’t actually seen him all week, but he’s been eating his food. Oh! I got him some toys. So cute. Little mice filled with catnip.” So much for playing it cool. “Do you think he’ll like them?”

“With his whole heart.”

With his whole heart. Yeah, Ian could get on board with that feeling.

“So what do the blogs say about folding clothes?”

“Oh, don’t even get me started on that. People don’t even have the first clue about how to stack their clothes when putting them in their dresser. You want me to show you?” Ian couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice.

“Let’s do it. But we gotta wash them first, yeah?”

“Ha ha. You want some help getting your stuff sorted?”

“I’m gonna get used to someone taking care of me.”

Oh god. Ian wasn’t gonna survive whatever this was. It was going to kill him.

As they finished getting Mickey’s clothes in the washer amid lots of “accidental” hand touching, an elderly lady came in with a little wheeled cart full of clothes. She was trying to pull the cart through the front door, which kept closing on her cart. Ian bolted to the door and held it open.

She smiled at him. And that was that.

He helped her sort her clothes and woke Waldorf up enough to get her some change for her dollar. Interestingly, Waldorf was on high alert once he got a look at the new customer. Suddenly, Ian thought, he valued customer service.

They discussed the merits of permanent press fabrics and how long nights seemed less lonely when filled with productive activity. Ian watched Mickey sitting on the long counter watching him. Kitty had sauntered in to check things out and made his way to Mickey’s side. Ian was dying to go be with them, but he was needed here.

But his lady friend was astute. “I think your fellow misses you.” She smiled at him. “And the feeling is mutual.”

He glanced at Mickey and Kitty. His eyes met Mickey’s. They stared at each other across the laundromat. Ian thought that if his life were a musical, he’d break into song right in that instance. Throwing his arms wide and belting out a love song, maybe leaping onto the washing machines and—

“What are you thinking about? C’mere, dumbass,” Mickey called out and Kitty tilted his head.

The lady perched in a plastic chair with her crosswords and pointedly ignored Waldorf, and Ian joined Mickey and Kitty on the counter. They swung their feet and just sat enjoying the feeling—of not being alone. Eventually Mickey’s _tumble_ cycle ended, and they lifted the warm material onto the counter. Kitty nearly lost his shit. He rolled around and pawed at the warm t-shirts and hoodies. Until his eyes started to close.

“Is he the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?” Ian’s heart melted at the sight.

“No.”

“What?” Ian turned to Mickey in astonishment and maybe even a little bit of anger. Ready to read him the riot act. Mickey was smiling at him, with teeth showing. It was an actual grin. It was beautiful.

“You’re pretty cute too, Red.”

“I am?” Ian was speechless. Was he imagining this? Had Mickey just called him cute? Cuter than Kitty! He studied Mickey’s face like the secrets of the universe would be revealed. Or at least his little tiny corner of the universe. “How’d you get that scar?” Ian’s fingers, of their own accord, lightly touched the jagged scar on the pale cheekbone, frowning at the idea of Mickey being hurt.

“Long story,” Mickey replied gruffly.

“Tell me.”

Mickey turned away, looking down at the kitty and the laundry. “These clothes ain’t gonna fold themselves. Or is that the trick you’re gonna teach me? That’d be fucking awesome.”

Ian picked up a t-shirt, hurt. “I wanna know about you, Mickey. All the stuff. Even, you know, the sad stuff. Maybe the sad stuff the most.”

“My dad. Coldcocked me with a pistol.”

“Oh.”

“He died while I was in prison. Kind of felt like being released from prison early.”

Kitty opened his eyes and looked at Mickey too.

“Your mom?”

“Died when I was little.”

“Oh.”

Ian could feel emotions pushing into his throat, his eyes, his gut. The material in his hands was suffering as he twisted it in his grip. “Hey,” Mickey teased. “What would the laundry support group say if they saw you mangling the shit out of fresh laundry?”

“I’d have my membership revoked.”

“Better be careful or Waldorf might report you.”

“Yeah, nothing gets past him.”

“Looks like nothing’s getting past him tonight.”

Ian watched Waldorf smooth the caterpillars and clear his throat, obviously hoping to draw attention to himself.

“What kind of name is Waldorf anyway? Shit sounds fake.”

Ian laughed. “I have no idea what his name is. That’s what I call him.” He looked at Mickey with so much delight. “You know the two old guys on the Muppets? I’m convinced he’s one of them.”

Now they both laughed. Ian’s lady friend looked up and smiled.

The next twenty minutes were spent with Ian espousing the merits of the Japanese art of folding, while expertly creating a compact wrinkle-free pile of t-shirts and underwear. Just as he was about to demonstrate how to fold a sweater—where shit gets serious—Kitty decided the pile needed a little rearranging. He batted at the stack of t-shirts, then hopped off the counter and shot out the back door.

“Little shit,” Mickey chuckled, picking up the shirts and boxers that had fallen to the floor and mingled with Ian’s basket of clean clothes. “I think he’s got a problem with order. Probably a fucking anarchist.”

When Ian got home and put his clothes away, one of Mickey’s t-shirts was in his basket. He sat on his futon bed and stared at the Metallica logo, then with eyes darting around his little apartment, he brought the black material up to his face and closed his eyes, curling up on his bed. Not so alone.

 

WEEK 5

The wait to see Mickey the following week was in some ways easier and in some ways harder. They had exchanged phone numbers and shared a few texts in the time between laundry days. Ian wanted to throw himself at Mickey, but Mickey has been pretty clear that they should let things happen naturally. That made good sense to Ian, in his brain. The rest of his body thought it was stupid. 

Laundry day arrived! He’d kind of liked laundry day before he’d met Mickey and Kitty, now it’s like Christmas morning wrapped up in Saturday morning cartoons and coated with his birthday. Over text they’d decided to meet at midnight exactly, which of course was Ian’s idea as he thought it seemed romantic. Mickey seemed maybe a little less enthused at the timing but not less enthused at the meeting.

Was this what falling in love felt like? Ian wondered. He was pretty sure the answer was yes. How else could you explain Christmas/cartoon/birthday level feelings?

When he arrived, the laundromat was empty. He waved at Waldorf, who looked blankly at him like he couldn’t remember where he’d seen him before. Tonight, it just made Ian smile. He got to sorting and stuffing and selecting so he’d be ready to help Mickey with is laundry. At one minute to midnight, Ian took a deep breath and went to sit on the counter where Mickey liked to do his sorting.

At 12:30, he let his tears fall. Just a little. If he let them go freely, he knew what would happen. It scared him. His phone was beside him on the counter and it stayed stubbornly silent. Ian was waffling between sending a text and deleting Mickey’s number. A scuffling sound came from the back door. Kitty was standing at the door, watching him. The look he was giving Ian was probably the look that Ian would be giving Mickey if he walked in the door right then.

“Oh my god, Kitty. I’m so sorry! There’s no excuse, baby. I was just feeling sorry for myself,” Ian jumped off the counter and snatched the cat food from his basket. “Come on, let’s eat.”

They made their way to the bench. Ian opened the food and set it beside him. Kitty dove in, his little paw resting on Ian’s thigh. Right where Mickey had placed his hand. “Oh Kitty. What are we going to do? You must miss him too. Don’t you?”

“I’m here.”

Ian looked up at Mickey’s voice. He could feel the tears pushing again, and he fought them back. His chin wobbled a little, but he kept himself in check. Mostly.

Mickey moved toward him, bent down and kissed him. Fully. On the mouth, with tongue, his fingers dug into the back of Ian’s skull. Their eyes closed, and they fell over the edge. Forever changed.

“Sorry, I’m late,” Mickey said when he pulled away. He sat beside Kitty and ran his _FUCK_ fingers along the soft grey fur tracing the black stripes one by one. Then fluffing the orange mane around his little face. “I need to tell you about myself.”

“Okay, Mickey.”

“Do you know what these are?” Mickey lifted his arm a little, so the four tattooed teardrops were on display.

“Teardrops?”

“Yeah, but do you know what they mean?”

“Sadness? Hurt? Heartbreak? Pain?”

Mickey laughed a little. “Well, yeah. But more specifically. They symbolize the years I spent in jail.”

“Oh.”

Ian felt like he needed to say or do something specific because Mickey was looking at him closely. But Ian wasn’t sure what that something was. He was sad for Mickey, but he wasn’t sure what Mickey needed from him. “That must have sucked.”

Mickey reached across Kitty, so he could push his lips into Ian’s again. When he pulled back, Ian tried to follow him, chasing after those lips that had suddenly become the whole reason he was put on this earth. “Ian. Let’s finish this first, okay?”

Ian nodded. “You went to jail for 4 years. Why? Did you rob a bank or something?”

For the first time, Ian got to hear Mickey’s full, complete, uninhibited laugh. “Mickey, I’m falling in love with you.” OH FUCK!

“I know, Ian.”

“What? You know?”

“I’d say I’ve know every thought and emotion you’ve had since you looked up and told me I shouldn’t mix my jeans and hoodie.”

“Really? How? Are you psychic?”

“Your face, goof.” As he said this, Ian blinked and Mickey pointed. “Exhibit A.”

Ian touched his face, which was turning red. Again.

“I’m so embarrassed.”

“If you could read my face, you know what you’d see?”

Ian shook his head, while Kitty climbed into his lap and snuggled in for a post meal nap.

“The same thing.”

“Really?”

Mickey slid across the bench, once again curling his arm around Ian’s shoulders. But this time, he pulled Ian closer until his head could rest against Mickey’s. Together, they looked down at their Kitty.

“What are we gonna call him?” Mickey asked.

“Tumbles.”

 

 

After all their laundry was done and Tumbles was once again asleep curled up in Ian’s still warm basket of laundry, Mickey and Ian headed to Ian’s little bachelor apartment. It was sparsely furnished. A futon neatly made up into its sitting position. Quilt and pillows piled beside it. Coffee table with laptop and a few novels. A small table for two. Tiny kitchen, bathroom and closet.

Tumbles poked his head up from the basket and surveyed his surroundings. Satisfied, he went back to sleep. Mickey poked his head around the apartment. Satisfied, he went back to looking at Ian.

Ian stood awkwardly for a moment. “Oh, can I get you something? A drink? Sandwich?”

Mickey reached for his hand and pulled him close. “We should finish our chat.”

“About your past?” Ian tried to swallow with Mickey’s lips so close to his. They were all he could look at.

Mickey nodded.

“Can we kiss when we’re finishing talking?” Apparently, and much to Ian’s delight, Mickey couldn’t wait that long because he tilted his chin the two inches that brought their lips together. Their other hands connected, and they swayed slightly. Ian opened his mouth just enough to pull Mickey’s lower lip between his. He could stay here forever.

But suddenly, there was space between, and Ian opened his eyes.

“Talk,” Mickey said.

“Right. Wanna sit down?” Ian motioned to his futon bed. “Um, we could make it down into the bed. It’ll be more comfortable.” Once again, the flames attacked Ian’s cheeks.

“Are you sure, Ian?”

“I’m really sure.”

Mickey laughed. “Let’s do it then.”

“It, it?” Ian asked in awe. His eyes huge.

“Let’s make the bed down, Ian. One step at a time, right?”

Clean, fresh sheets. Pillows. Kitty. They each stood on a side of the bed and looked at the soft, inviting space. Symbolizing everything they wanted.

“Um, we should probably get undressed, since it’s bed time and all,” Ian suggested.

“That’s good planning. Proactive.”

Ian looked up at Mickey’s chuckle. “You’re teasing me again.”

“Maybe a little, but I swear I’m thanking my lucky stars right now. Every fucking one of them.”

No clothes were ever removed faster in the history of clothing.

They climbed in and moved to the center of the mattress. The warm weight of the comforter cocooning them. Ian pressed his cheek into Mickey’s shoulder and wound their legs together. He couldn’t hold back the contented sigh that escaped. He was warm, comfy, safe. Loved.

Tumbles must have felt the same way because he released a purr and nuzzled his nose into Ian’s thigh.

“You’re quite the player, Ian.”

“What? Now I know you’re teasing me.” His fingers were playing with the little hairs just below Mickey’s belly button and just above his boxers.

“Let’s see. You got me to come back to you place, convinced me to get into bed with you and now I’m practically naked. Impressive.”

“Oh, there’s other things I was thinking I wanted as well.”

“Jesus.” Mickey’s hand covered Ian’s, and Ian could feel some action occurring beneath the boxers, so he pressed more than his cheek into Mickey. The feel of his erection pressed lightly against Mickey’s hip was erotic on a level Ian didn’t know even existed. And his reaction was not going unnoticed. Mickey’s hand that was cupping Ian’s hand moved slightly bringing the side of Ian’s hand to Mickey’s erection.

They just laid there like that for a few moments. It was kind of enough.

Until Mickey cleared his throat. “We have to talk. Seriously, Ian.”

So they turned to face each other, close enough to feel each other’s breath.

“Why were you late tonight, Mickey?” The tiny kernel of doubt finding its way into his voice.

“I had my weekly meeting with my PO today.”

“Okay. Do you like him? Is he nice to you?”

Mickey pulled Ian a little closer. “She’s fine. But it just reminded me that I have to meet with her for another year. Then I’ve got a record. Fucked for life. You know?”

Ian wasn’t sure what his face was saying but his heart was breaking. Fucked for life. Not if he had a say in the matter.

“I decided,” Mickey continued fully aware of Ian’s thoughts. “That you didn’t need to be tied to someone like that.” Ian started to speak, but Mickey pushed his finger into his lips to silence him. “As I watched the minutes tick past midnight, I realized I was lying to myself. I wasn’t gonna be able to stay away from you. But I want you to know what you get when you pick me.”

“So tell me then. What do I get?” His hand came to Mickey’s cheek. “Sickness and health, better or worse?”

“Yeah, all that shit. With an ex-con.”

“Why were you in jail?”

“Drugs.”

“Are you a drug dealer?”

“I guess I was. Although technically I was just selling shit that my dad made me sell. But there was an incident and some chick got hurt. They thought I did it, and I was gonna go down for 8 to 15, but eventually, those charges were dropped. They were fucking bogus. However, I did have a shit ton of coke on me, and it wasn’t my first offense.”

“So you went to jail for 4 years?”

“I had already been in juvie for 2 years. For hitting a cop and stealing a car. Then the 2 years for possession.”

“How long have you been out?”

“Three months.”

“Where have you been living since you got out?”

“On my brother’s couch. But that’s getting awkward. I got a job doing security, nights. The owner of the security company is an ex-con, who believes in the whole second chances thing. I work nights so that I’ll be gone when Iggy is home and can sleep while Iggy is at work. But I’m going to be looking for my own place soon.”

“There’re no cheap places,” Ian cleared his throat, trying to remove all the hope from his voice. He didn’t want to pressure Mickey. “I’ve tried to find something cheaper than this. It’s kind of expensive for a guy who works in a diner graveyard shift. Not exactly killing it with the tips. Maybe we can help each other out.”

“Yeah?”

“We could be roommates.”

Mickey pushed up to one elbow forcing Ian to his back. “Roommates?” He lifted his eyebrows. “You wanna be my roommate, Ian?”

Ian gulped. Then shook his head.

“If we’re not roommates, then what will we be?” Mickey laughed, and Ian figured it was because he could read Ian’s face loud and clear.

“Whatever.” Ian tried to be evasive and give Mickey mixed messages. It just made Mickey laugh harder.

“Wanna be my boyfriend, Ian?”

“Oh my god,” Ian threw himself at Mickey. Finally.

The impact caused Tumbles to open one eye, but whatever was happening with his humans didn’t seem worthy of his attention. However, a few minutes later, Tumbles let out his kitty growl and huffed to the top of the mattress.

His humans were going crazy, grunting and groaning, rolling around. The soft comforter that Tumbles had come to seriously think of as his was half on the floor. The word “Mickey” could be heard over and over for the next 15 minutes. Then silence and stillness for the rest of the night and in to the early morning.

Tumbles eventually made his way back down the mattress attempting to wedge himself between two bodies pressed together. Tumbles was resourceful that way.

 

WEEK 6

Ian thought he’d died and gone to heaven. The last week of his life was beyond happy. Now he was looking down at all his clothes and Mickey’s clothes mingled together on the counter top. His whites and Mickey’s white. He could see clearly a future where the clothes bled together and just became their clothes. No separating required.

“Staring at laundry again, man. Now what are you thinking about?” Mickey asked coming up behind him, stopping with barely an inch between them. Ian couldn’t keep himself from pushing back until he could feel Mickey’s chest. Warmth.

“The future.”

Mickey’s arm came around Ian’s waist, and his forehead rested on Ian’s shoulder for just a second. Then he was standing beside Ian confidently sorting clothes.

After sharing a smoke, the washer buzzed, and Mickey did the transfer while Ian jumped up on the counter to watch. It was super hard to not get turned on by the sight. Mickey was observing all the proper laundry rules, which for Ian was a turn on in itself. But he was also super hot doing it. His ass stuck out when he bent over, and his biceps flexed when he pulled out the clothes.

“I don’t have to ask what you're thinking about now,” Mickey said.

“Sex.”

“Um, yeah, I got that,” he laughed. “You got a laundry kink, Red. But, you know, I can get on board with that. So what would turn you on? Maybe you wanna watch me—” he lowered his voice, “put this dryer sheet into the dryer.” He dropped the blue square in then nudged the dryer door closed with his hip. When Ian looked up to his face, Mickey ran his tongue along his lower lip and lifted his eyebrows in a quick bounce. “You like that.”

Ian nodded and crooked his finger, mouthing “c’mere”. Mickey glanced quickly at Waldorf, who was nodding off. Swinging his foot out, Ian caught Mickey behind his thigh, pulling him until he rested between his legs. His arms came around Mickey’s neck and Mickey’s hands came to his hips.

He pulled Ian to the edge of the counter until they met, intimately. They watched each other for a second, then their lips met in the middle. The kiss was everything they wanted to say. I love you, I need you, I can finally breathe.

Ian hooked his feet around Mickey’s legs, and Mickey wrapped his arms around Ian, holding on tightly.

 

Mickey and Ian and Tumbles left the laundromat. Tumbles stopped to sniff around the empty Tide boxes, then haughtily rejoined his boys. Those days were behind him.

Mickey watched the kitty and took Ian’s hand. Those days were behind him too.

Ian walked toward his apartment and he wasn’t alone. Those days were definitely behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like Gallavich + Kitty fics, the full collection of Here Kitty Kitty stories are being posted between now and Valentine's Day. Here's the link to check them out: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/EG_Kitty_Challenge


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